


The Feline Specialist

by Supertights



Category: Alien (1979)
Genre: Gen, POV Jones, Rewrite, The Cat is the protagonist, Yuletide 2013, Yuletide Treat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-24
Updated: 2013-12-24
Packaged: 2018-01-05 20:00:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,775
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1098026
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Supertights/pseuds/Supertights
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jones was born a ship cat, it was his duty to hunt down vermin on the Nostromo, this time was no different.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Feline Specialist

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Beckymonster](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Beckymonster/gifts).



> Massive thanks go to my sister and last second beta, River_Song.

The feline specialist aboard the Nostromo came from a long line of rodent killers, he remembered his mother as a cat of ordinary beauty, a grey ghost with eyes that sparked like fierce sapphires. She taught him the ways of all cats - how to eat solid food, to drink, how to groom his own fur, and find the acceptable places to leave his droppings, and most importantly, how to hunt and kill prey.

He was born on a ship, this came with it a certain degree of importance. It dictated that he was destined to be a ship cat also, like his mother before him, like her mother before her. He was one of a litter of six, not the smallest, nor the largest; he was as average as his mother was and colored after his father, who he had never met. He did not know if his father had been a ship cat but it made a certain sense, or at the very least, he'd been a station cat.

His mother gave him a name, a name only she called him. When he was old enough, she taught him to hear the words that the tall smooth skinned apes that called themselves humans spoke, how to interpret the noises they made into something he could understand. She passed this on to him as her mother had for her.

Many times, humans had handled him, all had been familiar. A day came when she pressed her nose to his head, rubbing her cheek along his. A rumble from deep in her belly made comforting noises until, with a meow; she sang his name, long and slow, and in sad farewell. He didn't understand but sang back that he loved her, would always love her, in his child's voice. Hands he did not recognize picked him up then, he hissed his disagreement, understanding now why his mother had said her farewell. He called to her but she was already gone. He was strong, he would fight, flashing his tiny claws that hooked and caught in stiff fabric, he struggled for a moment until the human spoke.

"Jones," it said. "Yes, you look like a Jones to me."

Its voice was low with none of the rough edges that the male humans had. His mother had aligned herself with a male human, who fed and sheltered her. He wondered if this human would shelter and feed him in the same way. He voiced his concern in a low whine of query.

"Yeah, yeah, Jones, I've got some A-grade kitty grub for you," she said, rubbing the spot between his ears that he liked rubbed. "I'm Ripley by the way." She held him for a time then opened a box and put him inside it. Through the clear sides, he looked up at her for reassurance. "I promise I'll let you out when we get back to the Nostromo."

The Nostromo was to be his new ship then, he accepted this in the way all ship cats accepted a new home, a new hunting ground.

The box moved in ways that Jones didn't like and made him ill. He was embarrassed when Ripley opened the carrier and lifted him out, sucking in her breath and making a noise of dismay.

"Oh my poor little man," she said, holding him tightly to her. "Let's clean you up."

He communicated his shame with a nervous meow and a twitch of his tail.

"I don't think I agreed to a cat, Ripley." A male human's voice cut across their conversation.

"Every ship needs a cat, Dallas. It brings good luck to a crew and cargo, he's a ship cat, born and bred." She rubbed her thumb along his cheek, her fingers combing his fur. "And he's the best looking guy around here."

Even Jones could smell a load of shit when he heard it and sneezed out a laugh. The Dallas human snorted and gave him a rough pat before walking away.

Ripley slowly introduced Jones to each of the crew over the next few days as they boarded, allowing him time to categorize their smells and shapes, the sound of their voices. Only one gave Jones reason to pause, only one did he actively avoid in the hallways and mess deck.

To occupy his time, Jones fell into a pattern of roaming the long halls, checking lockers and moving between decks, chasing scents around the bays before returning to the mess to eat with the crew. Like a human, they allowed him to eat at the table, including him in the conversations.

When the long sleeps came, he curled at the feet of Ripley, dreaming of his mother and her soft fur, bright eyes and gentle voice. This became the way of things; awake to hunt, the long sleep, then awake again.

When he woke after the newest sleep though, the humans were talking in loud tones, not angry; Jones had not heard real anger on the Nostromo. No, as he looked from face to face, they sounded confused. He added his confusion and Ripley stroked long fingers down his back in a comforting way.

He returned to his role of checking for vermin, moving among the humans on silent feet, wrapping himself around Ripley's legs before stalking the hallways and lockers, sniffing out non-existent prey. Nothing could survive while they were in the long sleep. He knew this but his job was one of maintenance and security, and Jones took it very seriously.

He hid in Ripley's bedding when the ship seemed to sink, shuddering and shaking around them. Smoke and sparks flying around him in the air. It was a new experience to him.

He was disturbed in following days by unfamiliar smells, strange odors that lingered on Dallas and Lambert, Kane he could not get near but the Kane smells on other crewmembers were-- enemy. Jones could not describe the strangeness of the smells other than that but he tried to communicate them to Ripley in urgent tones.

She would look at him with a sad smile, pat him for a while and turn away.

Jones stalked the area around the room that smelt of chemicals and blood with the relentlessness of a hunter confronted with a prey it both fears and knows it must eliminate. When the door opened, he paused as humans rushed past him and the screams started.

He circled the edge of the crew as they circled Kane, that human still did not smell right, something in his sweat set Jones' hackles up. He sat at the mess table, watching and eating. Jones smelled blood before anyone else and hissed his warning to Ripley and the crew. It was too late of course.

The enemy moved past him faster than the fastest mouse, it reeked of blood and internal organs, and of things that Jones still couldn't identify in all their strangeness.

Hunting it, well, there was no question in Jones' mind. He was afraid; he couldn't remember a time when he'd been so afraid. The feline specialist was all about disposing of vermin though, whenever they were in port and small creatures gained entry, he hunted and killed them. This was no different and he stalked the thing from one end of the ship to the other until he found the skin.

He sneezed and backed away from it, skulking in the shadows as his fear regained its grip on him.

Jones watched from the shadows as the crew found the same skin and stood in a huddle, talking in hushed tones, pointing. None of them noticed him lurking.

He felt the enemy's presence before the human did.

In one of the landing strut bays, he heard it whisper. He cowered beneath a machine, the enemy was bigger now, bigger than Jones, bigger than Brett though that human was small, Jones watched as it snared the human and spirited him away.

He noticed when there were less of them, each time he crossed paths with the humans there were less. It concerned him, so he began to hunt again, controlling his fear until Ripley, Parker and Brett found him in a locker, trying to sleep in safety. He fled in a panic.

Jones didn't see Dallas again. He smelt the end of Ash on the remaining humans, not flesh and blood, just as Jones had always known. He witnessed the end of Parker and Lambert from afar. Jones worried and followed Ripley at a distance, protectively, fleeing from her when she called him so that he was still free to roam and hunt. When the lights began to flash and loud hoots filled the air, he cried out and Ripley came for him again, shutting him in the carrier box that seemed so much smaller than he remembered it.

The fear returned when she left him and the enemy returned, ghosting at the edges of his vision, obscured by the fogged plastic. It vanished in a cloud of steam and heat. Ripley appeared then and in a rush, they were in the smaller ship.

He'd explored it many times, when the humans opened the doors for brief periods. Jones was still in his carrier but he could see, for the first time in his life, the streaks of light as the ship moved through space at great speed. His vision filled with brighter than comfortable brightness and he blinked furiously as everything shuddered around him.

For a time after that, it was calm. Ripley was quiet, as she always was leading up to the long sleep. He could smell the chemicals in the human sized carrier box that signaled she was preparing to sleep. He was glad, for he was also very tired. She picked him up and Jones purred, thunderously, for he was proud of her and grateful that she was there with him, that they were in a safe place. Ripley would not be calm unless they were safe.

She lowered him into the long box, closing the lid; he crouched and watched her as she moved around playing with buttons and switches. He'd often wanted to do that but Ripley had always swatted his nose if he’d even touched one.

Jones watched her back away suddenly, back into a locker where he couldn't see her or hear her voice anymore. When she emerged, she looked different, bigger. She hunted the enemy, driving it from their ship with a cat‘s single-mindedness. Jones was again proud of her, his human.

They slept then, two hunters no longer afraid, dreaming of their families, one born of ships, and one born of earth.

**Author's Note:**

> I loved your prompt, who can resist Jones.


End file.
